As contagion of sickness makes sickness
by SageK
Summary: When Prescott gets sick, it's Jack to the rescue. J/C
1. Chapter 1

The typical tri-tonal ring tone of the CTU phones drew Jack Bauer away from the tedious paperwork he was filling in. When President Taylor had approached him about taking part in the reformation of a new CTU, he hadn't taken into account the may levels of bureaucratic red tape that went into such an undertaking. Event though he had balked at the idea of taking on a directorship (not that they'd offered it, just Head of Field Ops again), there was administrative work that needed doing, at least until Brian Hastings arrived to take up his position.

They were running on a skeleton staff at the moment, Jack acting as Director, Chloe O'Brien staking her claim as lead analyst. There was some friction Dana Walsh, another tech, but that was kind of par for the course. At the moment, Chloe wasn't in the office. She was in D.C., meeting with some Homeland Security Analysts about interagency information exchanges.

The phone at least was a break from the monotony. Grabbing the receiver, he barked, "Bauer."

There was a pause, then a woman's voice, nasal, with an odd accent, asked, "Jack Bauer?"

He didn't recognize the voice, but that didn't really mean much. He didn't know a lot of people in New York, where their offices were located. In fact, his social circle was pretty much limited to Chloe and, by extension, her ex-husband and son. It was a sad reality.

"Yes," he said, never one to waste words.

"Mr. Bauer, this is Astor Barrington, from the The Birch Wathen Lenox School . I'm afraid Prescott's taken ill and we've been unable to reach his parents. As you are on his emergency contact sheet, we'd like you to come pick him up."

She sounded like one of those uber-yuppies WASP's from Connecticut, the part Martha Stewart lived in. It was off putting and Jack blinked. He knew he was one of Prescott's contacts, as when Chloe had enrolled him at the school, she had informed Jack that she had put his name on the sheet. He didn't have a problem with it, but at present, he wondered where Morris was. The man might not have been able to make his marriage to Chloe work, either time, but he was a good father, had relocated across the country to be with his son.

"Chloe's in D.C. till tonight," he said, then glanced at the clock. It read 10:56am. "I can be there to get him in about twenty minutes."

"Good." The woman sounded stressed. "There's a stomach flu epidemic. You can't imagine how unpleasant things are getting here."

If only puking, cranky kids even rated on Jack's scale of potential horrors.

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After setting up his phone to forward his calls to his cell, Jack hustled over to the school. The trip, just under 7 miles, took the 20 minutes he had estimated. New York traffic was not something Jack was fond of.

He was surprised not to see an onslaught of other adults, coming to pick up their children. From what Ms. Barrington had said, he assumed there'd be a rush. Instead, it was just him and a young, uniformed police officer who arrived moments after he did.

She narrowed her eyes at him. Obviously, she didn't recognize him and he looked out of place, looking around for a sign as to where he should be heading. None was forthcoming. The place looked more like a fancy museum than a school.

"Can I help you?" the officer, E. Healy, according to her nameplate, asked.

Relieved, Jack nodded. "Yeah," he said, "My friend's son goes here. She's out of town and they called me to come get Prescott."

She relaxed fractionally and said, "The office is this way. Have to check in there first."

Healy led the way to a nicely appointed office, where a thin, pinched looking man nearing middle age sat at a desk. His suit was expensive and the cut of his thinning, mousey brown hair looked like it probably cost far more than it was worth.

Holding up her ID, Healy said, "I'm here to pick up my kids. Tara and James Healy."

The administrator gave a stiff nod, then looked at Jack, who flashed his own ID. "Jack Bauer, here for Prescott O'Brien."

Yanking two slips of paper off of a pile, the man said, "Nurses Office. Down the hall."

Exiting the office, Jack asked, "Did I do something to offend him?"

Not that he really cared, but he didn't want Chloe to be mad at him if the people at the school said something to her.

With a snort, Healy said, "No. Just between your jeans and the facts that I'm NYPD and my children have names I can spell, we were probably just too blue collar for him."

Chloe had mentioned the people at the school being snotty, but she was willing to deal with it so Prescott could be exposed to the academic excellence of the institution.

The nurses office was full of unhappy children and a very harried nurse.

"Akiri, into the bucket, please….Zander, don't throw that at Denji….Go lie down, Nura, sweetheart….Bronson, don't wander….."

Well, Jack thought, that explains the 'names I can spell' comment. A pair of small children latched onto Healy's legs and, with a nod to the nurse, she swept them out of the germ ridden room.

It took him a moment to locate Prescott, sitting on a bed with a few of other lethargic looking kids. Offering the boy a smile, Jack said, "Hey, Prescott, ready to get out of here?"

The boy looked up at him with tired eyes and nodded. Far too slowly for a five year old, he hauled himself to his feet and gave a brief wave to his friends. "Bye, Xiomara. Meiling. Omari."

They returned his half hearted farewells and, when they reached the hall, Jack picked the boy up. The fact that he didn't insist he was far too old for such treatment was a testament to how poorly he was feeling.

"Where's Mom?" Prescott questioned as Jack carried him out to the car and flipped down the little booster seat thing in the backseat. "Or Dad?"

Jack strapped him in and said, "Mom's in meetings in D.C. today and I'm not sure about your dad, but we'll just wait for one of them to come home, okay."

Eyes already slipping closed, Prescott nodded.

If this was the worst of it, Jack considered himself lucky. Hopefully, the actual vomiting part was over.


	2. Chapter 2

Chloe O'Brien entered her apartment after a long day of dealing with her idiot counterparts from a number of other government agencies. It was much easier dealing with computers than actual people, especially when said people were unjustly full of themselves, promoted for being exceptionally good at the political parts of the job, not necessarily the technical aspects. She felt a certain grim satisfaction, knowing that no one would ever make that claim against her. She had her job in spite of her people skills.

Standing just inside the door of her apartment, she first noted it was oddly quiet. No nonsensical japanimation cartoon playing too loudly on the TV, no loud little voice going on about the social minefield that was kindergarten, no laughter…no nothing.

Maybe Morris had taken Prescott out to dinner. She knew he wanted to introduce his son to the woman he'd been seeing. After a thorough background check, Chloe didn't have a problem with that. Nothing too dangerous about someone who worked at MOMA.

Then she noted the fact that parts of the apartment were in disarray. The cushions had been removed from the couch and there were large damp patches visible on the carpet. An open bottle of Schweppes ginger ale sat on the kitchen counter by a barely touched sleeve of saltines, a jar of applesauce and a small bunch of bananas. There was a familiar jacket tossed over the back of a chair and a leather satchel dropped beside the sofa.

Clearly not the work of burglars or some form of ransacking, but curious.

Years of paranoia instilled in her by the nature of her job made her walk silently into the apartment. You could never be too careful…

Reaching the open bathroom door, she gave a surprised jerk and said, "Jack?"

Jack Bauer, her boss and friend, was sitting, cross legged on the travertine tiled floor, laptop sitting on his knees and Ipod ear bud in one ear. In the dim light of the room, she saw that he was barefoot, oddly only clad in his jeans and white undershirt and, when he heard her, he responded, "Shhh."

He tapped a command on his laptop, pulled out the ear bud, then set it aside. As he rolled to his feet, he pointed to the tub and whispered, "Poor kid's finally asleep."

Not understanding, Chloe stepped further into the room and looked where he indicated. The couch cushions had been used to assemble a makeshift bed in the tub and Prescott was curled up there, sleeping under a comforter.

"What's going on?" she asked once they stepped out, so as not to wake her son.

Jack rubbed the back of his neck and replied, "I got a call this morning from Prescott's school. He's got a stomach virus and needed to be picked up. They couldn't reach Morris, so they called me."

"Oh no, how's he doing? Is it bad?" She'd deal with Morris later. Now, she had a sick child to attend to.

Jack gave a little wave and said, "There has been a truly impressive amount of vomit for such a little kid, but he'll be fine. I had someone from medical come over and look at him, just in case."

"Dr. Dominic?"

"Yeah."

"Okay." She looked at him for a moment, before saying, "Thanks for this. I don't know where Morris is. He was supposed to pick Prescott up after school. Did he call or anything?"

"He's got this too," Jack told her, pausing when they heard a little couch from the bathroom, but when there was no following retching, he continued. "Pretty bad. He was dehydrated and passed out."

Chloe froze. Vomiting and passing out might say stomach flu to most, but Morris was in AA and doing so well….she hoped he hadn't….

"I sent Dominic over there after she finished up here. She said to make sure to keep Prescott hydrated so it wouldn't get so bad for him."

Holding up a hand, Chloe said, "Wait. You sent a doctor to check on Morris?"

Jack shrugged. "Well, it didn't seem like him. He's a good dad, wouldn't just not be there for his son, ya know, so, I had Giada go by….I think she's gonna work out well, by the way."

Chloe was surprised by the non-sequitor. "Why?"

"When no one answered Morris's door, she kicked it in." Jack was smiling ruefully and Chloe had to chuckle as well.

Nodding to the bathroom and her sleeping child, Chloe asked, "What's with the bed in the tub?"

"Much easier to clean tile than carpet," Jack said, then pointed over to the damp patches of rug. "There are some similar spots in his room and on his bed."

She noted the pile damp fabric in the sink and asked, "On your shirt too, I see."

Jack made a little face. "Yeah…Kimmie always used to get me. Never Teri, but me, every time she had a stomach virus, it was like I had a bulls eye on my chest."

Sometimes Chloe forgot that Jack had a grown child of his own, probably because Kim had been grown when they had met. "Did he keep anything down?"

"A little weak tea and a saltine," Jack told her. "He finally nodded off about twenty minutes ago. It's been a long day for him, so he's pretty rung out."

"My poor little guy," Chloe said, torn between the desire to let him get some much needed sleep and rushing in and giving him a hug and apologizing for not being there for him today. In the end, sleep, the option that was more beneficial for Prescott, won out. "Were other kids in his class sick?"

With a nod, Jack said, "You know how schools are, it's never just one kid. Even a school like that."

"It has a great academic program," she said, then shrugged, "Even if the PTA meetings make me want to jab a pen in my eye or, better yet, into several other parents."

"The names," he said. "Whatever happened to names like John and Kathy?"

"Not trendy enough," she said, then shook a finger in his direction. "And Prescott is a family name. On Morris's side."

Changing tactics, Jack asked, "So, how was your meeting?"

"Ugh," she sneered, crossing her arms in disgust. "Most of them were morons. Anyone who actually knew what they were doing was treated like a leper. It was a joy."

Jack smiled a bit and Chloe realized that he usually looked interested and amused when he watched her do battle with her uppity minions. So far, Dana was the only member of her department to try and challenge Chloe and, when they threw down, Jack always had Chloe's back, a silent support she appreciated.

"Is my system at the office still intact, or…." she began, but was cut off by a plaintive cry from the bathroom.

"Moooom!"

She was in the bathroom, kneeling by the tub in seconds. "Hey," she said softly, bending down to press a kiss to her son's pale brow. "I hear you had quite a day."

He nodded miserably, and from the door, Jack asked, "Want some more ginger ale?"

"K," Prescott murmured, then asked, "Mommy, what's an Exorcist?"

Chloe looked sharply at the door, but Jack beat a quick retreat to the kitchen to retrieve the offered ginger ale.

It was kind of amusing to know she could instill fear in a man who was the stuff of terrorists worst nightmares.

TBC

Reviews Please!!!!!!


	3. Chapter 3

"The Exorcist, Jack? Really?" Chloe asked, somewhat torn between annoyance and amusement, as they retreated from the bathroom once again. Prescott had sipped his ginger ale, then settled back down for some more sleep, so the adults left him to his nap.

Holding up his hands in a placating gesture, Jack said, "It was a compliment."

Chloe blinked. "Explain that one to me, cause clearly I am missing something."

Jack seemed to falter for a moment, as though unsure how to express whatever it was that was going on in his head. "Okay, so all the puke was pretty gross, but the kid really got some distance."

"Is this some sort of guy thing?"

"We're talking projectile. I was at least six feet away and he got me."

It was a guy thing, Chloe decided. No woman would be impressed by distance vomiting. Nervous, yes. Impresses, no. "Is that normal?"

"Apparently," Jack reassured her. "It was before Dominic came over and she said it was all right. As long as it doesn't happen more than a few times."

"How many times has he…."

"Just the once. The rest of the times, it's just been normal vomiting."

With a nod, she said, "Well, that's good…though I'd rather not have had it happen at all…So, what time did you pick him up?"

"Just after 11," he replied, reaching into the sink and wringing out his damp shirt.

This was intriguing. "What did you two do all day? Between the vomiting and naps, I mean?"

"Talked about what he usually does in school. Read. Watched some tv," Jack said as he considered the shirt, then looked up at her. "I actually liked SpongeBob SquarePants."

Now wasn't that an image. Jack and Prescott watching the animated adventures of an energetic sea sponge. Oh, she wished there had been someone around to film that.

Then again, if someone had been there, Jack probably wouldn't have relaxed enough to enjoy the show, and if ever there was someone who needed to unwind and enjoy mindless entertainment, it was Jack Bauer.

"I like that one too," she told him. "At least it makes sense… And doesn't cause seizures."

Having set the shirt down on the counter, the domesticity of seeing him standing at her sink almost made Chloe laugh, because Jack and domestic should be total oxymorons.

Yet there he was, in jeans and an white undershirt, damp in places from careless swipes of his hands, fussing around with the drain stopper, heavily scarred, tattooed arms plunged into the sudsy water. He looked calm, quiet in a way their jobs didn't often allow him to be. Though not one prone to mushy sentiments, Chloe found herself unaccountably pleased he could find a sort of peace here with them. And he didn't seem to be in any hurry to leave,

"This drain's very slow, Chloe," he informed her, then reached down and opened the cupboard below. "Do you have a pipe wrench? I can clean the trap, see if that's it."

She smiled as she walked over the closet where she kept a small tool kit and removed the requested wrench. Handing it to Jack, who had lowered himself to the floor and stuck his head down under the sink, she said, "You do that. I'll put together something for us to eat."

"That'd be nice," he replied, then slid back under the sink to get to work.

She watched him for a moment, smiling as his shirt rode up a bit to reveal a strip of lightly tanned skin, scattered blond hair and scars peeking out above the rise of his jeans. His stomach looked flat and firm and healthy and she wondered if it was in spite of or because of his line of work. Probably a little bit of both.

Picking up the phone, she dialed a nearby deli that she frequented and knew had a delivery service. She ordered a tub of chicken noodle soup, a pair of Greek salads, a spicy Italian sub with extra pickles and hot peppers for Jack and a chicken bacon ranch sub for herself. As she hung up, she heard a low rumble of laughter coming from under the sink.

"What?" she asked, wandering back into the kitchen and gently bumping her toes into his thigh. "I never said I was gonna cook. Besides, I don't want Prescott to have to put up with the smell of cooking foods…especially mine."

"Sounds like an interesting experience."

"Come over some time when Prescott's feeling better and you can witness the carnage."

"I'll do that."

"Okay."

"Any explanation for the wad of Play Douh in here?"

"The five year old in residence, perhaps."

"Ah. Gotcha."

Yeah, she though with a rueful smile. Yeah, you do. And she found that she was okay with that.


	4. Chapter 4

Two days later, Chloe entered the CTU offices and got that odd, prickly feeling on the back of her neck that always showed up when something was amiss. Sure, there were the usual electronic beeps and white noise, the whir of servers and the rush of air conditioning units. But there was a distinct lack of man made noises. And Dana was always making noise. The woman really needed to learn to shut her mouth.

Upon seeing her, several staff rushed towards her, looks of relief clear on their faces.

"Oh, thank God," Nick Mankuba, one of her data analysts, breathed. "Maybe you can do something about him."

"What?" she said, giving them an annoyed look. It was really too early in the day for this cryptic shit. She'd only had one cup of coffee so far. "Who?"

"Bauer," Jo Reed, one of Jack's field agents, piped up, then indicated another woman with a wave of her hand. "He came in this morning looking like death warmed over and actually growled at Sophie."

Sophie Lennox was the most junior member of Chloe's staff, a sweet little porcelain doll that no one in the office could say a bad word about. She looked worried as she nodded. "It's true," she confirmed, then cast a glance across the room to where Dana was sulking at her station. "Dana went into his office to see what the problem was, but just came out looking kind of scared."

"That was when I suggested we stop poking the lion," Renee quipped. Chloe raised a brow, noting the other woman had not attempted her own info gathering attempt.

"And, as you know, pissed-off-scary Jack does not bode well for anyone," concluded Nick. "Especially when there's no specific threat to the nation to direct him at."

"If you can chill him out a bit, I'll take one for the team," Jo said, swallowing as if to steel herself against an unpleasant thought. "He can throw me around a training room for a while. Work whatever this is out of his system."

Chloe heaved a sigh and held up her hands. "Okay, okay," she grumbled. "I'll handle this. Just get back to work."

They scattered, Sophie and Nick to their stations, Renee and Jo off to one of the rooms field ops had claimed as their own. Most of the techs avoided those areas, as one never quite knew what was going on in there. Once, Nick stuck his head into a room, having heard a series of thuds and grunt, and happened upon two agents sparring, blindfolded. He'd narrowly avoided a kick to the head.

Making her way to Jack's office, Chloe opened the door and entered without preamble, closing the door behind herself. The whole office didn't need to hear whatever was said.

The lights were off, as was the computer. With a huff, Chloe asked, "Any particular reason you're terrorizing the staff today?"

There was a pause, followed by a tired, raspy, "No."

Reaching out, she flicked on the lights, an action that was met with a pained groan and a whine of, "Chloe!"

She considered the scene before her. Jack was sitting in his chair, slumped forward over his desk, head resting on his folded arms. His face was pale and sweaty and he sported dark circles under his eyes.

"Did you come to work sick?" she demanded, crossing her arms and focusing her best 'Mom' look at him.

Another pause, then, "No."

Exasperated, she walked over to him and laid a hand on his brow. He was hot to the touch, but not dangerously so. "What is it, another deadly virus or the stomach flu?"

He cracked open one blue eye to peer at her. "I haven't puked in a few hours. I think the worst has passed," he finally muttered, then buried his face in his arms.

Shaking her head, Chloe rubbed his head for a moment, scraping her nails along his scalp and through his short, blond hair. The action made him sigh and some of the miserable tension in his back eased.

"Okay," Chloe said, coming to a decision. "I'm going to go reassure everyone that you do not, in fact, plan to kill them for some unknown offense. Then I'm taking you home."

"Chloe, I don't need…."

"Home."

"I'm fine…."

"Jack."

"Okay."

Having won that battle, Chloe patted his back gently before heading back to the door. Before she left, she flicked off the light.

Out on the floor, she walked over to Nick's station, which was fairly centrally located and was unsurprised when Jo and Renee appeared again, trailed by another few agents.

Not to beat around the bush, Chloe said, "Everything's fine. Jack's got the stomach flu. I'm taking him home."

There were looks of relief, but Dana had to say, "He's a grown man, Chloe. Why do you think he needs you to look after him?"

Shooting a death glare at the other woman, Chloe said, "Because Jack does not have the best track record when it comes to making decisions regarding his own health."

"Yeah," Renee agreed, the only other witness to just how hard Jack could push himself, completely disregarding his own health. "If he had good judgment on such things, he'd have stayed home today."

Nodding, Chloe said, "So, we're going to go. Renee, obviously, you're in command. Nick, you've got comms and hourlies."

"No problem," Nick agreed easily while Dana seethed. One of the perks of command was being able to choose who to leave in charge when you weren't around. Dana seemed to feel she should be in charge, period, so on occasion Chloe felt the need to put her in her place.

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From the looks of Jack's place, he'd spent most of the night in his bathroom. There was a pillow and blanket on the cool tile floor, as Jack was too tall to recline comfortably in his tub like Prescott had. It seemed that he'd recognized the signs and made it in there before the actual vomiting started, so there were no messes to clean up.

In fact, there was no mess of any kind in his apartment. When they spent time together outside of work, they always seemed to end up at her place so Prescott could have his toys to play with. She'd never really taken into account what Jack's apartment was like.

She deposited Jack on his bed, neatly made with crisp white sheets and a dark blue comforter. As a precaution, she placed a trash basket near the bed, beside the bedside table. The only other furniture in the room was a low dresser and the closet door was open, revealing neatly hung clothes. There was a picture on the dresser, an old photo of Jack and Kim with his late wife Teri.

"Do you want…" she began, but a soft snore from the bed indicated Jack had passed out the minute his head hit the pillow. With a fond shake of her head, she wrestled his boots off, then, after contemplating removing his jeans and deciding against it, she tugged the comforter from beneath is body and tucked it around him.

Wandering out of the room, she peeked into the bathroom, noting the spotless, white tiles, white towels and minimal toiletries. Shampoo and a bar of soap sat on the side of the tub, and a toothbrush, brush and razor at the sink. The only things out of place were the pillow and the blanket.

The rest of the apartment consisted of a kitchen that opened into a living room. The kitchen island had two chairs, as there was no dining room table and the bag of groceries she had just brought in was the only clutter on the island.

The living room wasn't exactly homey either, just two chairs, a coffee table and a small entertainment center with a TV and DVD player.

Chloe had never been a Martha Stewart type, one to decorate and spend an excessive amount of time arranging her home just so. True, since she became a mother, she'd made much more of an effort and their apartment reflected that.

Jack's place made her want to go out and buy him a plant or something.

For the moment, she settled for putting away the groceries. The ginger ale and soup went into the fridge, which, to her relief, contained actual food that looked fresh and edible. The bananas, she put in the fruit bowl atop the fridge with, where she found a pair of apples and a pear.

Task completed, she settled into one of the chairs in the living room with her laptop. She could work from there till lunch, then heat up a little soup and try to make Jack eat it. Later she'd come up with a plan to keep him from trying to make it into work tomorrow, which she knew he'd insist he was recovered enough for.

Worst case scenario, she'd involve Renee and Dr. Dominic. Renee would try to reason with him and when she failed, distract him while Dominic gave him a shot of sedative. Actually, she though with a little smile, that could be kind of funny to watch.

Kicking off her shoes, she tucked her feet under herself and sat back. The worn leather of the chair was comfortable at least, just a little cool to the touch. A small throw or decorative pillow would help.

She'd bring something by soon, she decided as she pulled up an analysis of coded communiqués recorded in the tri-state area over the past few days. Okay, so she was as much of a workaholic as Jack, but at least she wasn't sick.


	5. Chapter 5

Fortunately for all involved, once Jack admitted he was sick, the desire to fight drained out of him and he hunkered down in his bed to wait the sickness out. All Chloe really had to do was go in occasionally, force him to drink something and make sure he got up a few times a day to use the bathroom. The first night, she was still quite worried about him, so when it was time for her to go home she called Renee, who came and stayed the night.

A few days later, Jack was feeling better and capable of returning to work. He got on the elevator with Chloe, as they had bumped into each other at the nearby coffee shop, and had to ask, "How did you manage not to get sick? You were around Prescott and me when we were contagious."

She gave him a small smile. "I have an adult immune system that has not been put through the wringer by all the crap fate has seen fit to toss at yours."

That was true. "Makes sense," he admitted, then added, "I just want to thank you again for what you did, Chloe. I know I'm not the most pleasant person to be around when I'm sick."

With a shrug, she said, "You weren't too bad. Most men turn into whiny little children when they don't feel well, but you just hibernated till you felt better."

"Suppose it's not the most difficult thing you've done for me, what with the hacking government systems and risking federal prison," his voice was gentle as he teased and Chloe had to laugh, because most people didn't have averting international disasters through less than sanctioned methods as a bonding experience.

She didn't say that last year, when he'd been exposed to that virus and had been sure he was going to die, when he'd asked her to focus and do her job because he needed her…she didn't say that had been the most difficult thing she'd ever done for him. It had taken all her strength to go back to work and not break down. When he left the office that day, she was sure she'd never see him again.

But against all odds, Jack survived again and now they saw each other every day. As the little indicator lights approached their floor, Jack looked down at her for a moment and said, "That's a nice color on you."

Chloe started, shocked that he commented on her clothing. She figured he was talking about the pale mint green sweater she had tosses on over her black shirt and skirt. It was a pretty sweater, in her own opinion, nice while still work appropriate.

"Thanks," she murmured, unsure how else to respond. It's not like she could comment on his outfit, one of the rotating combinations of his five pairs of jeans and seven Henley shirts. He had a few t-shirts (which he didn't wear because they exposed his scarred arms) and dress shirts, as well a suit in his closet. She knew this because she had looked when she was at his apartment.

The doors slid open, admitting them into the hall that led into the main floor of their offices. Already they could hear Dana's strident voice echoing down the hallway, yelling at someone about code. Jack had real idea what was being said, but Chloe scowled, slowed her pace and sighed, "Why the hell hasn't natural selection done it's job and gotten rid of her?"

"She's a senator's niece," Jack answered lightly, placing a hand on Chloe's back to propel her along.

"Which is also why I can't fire her yet," she huffed. "Politics."

He offered, "Just put her wherever she can do the least damage."

Reluctantly, Chloe admitted, "She's not exactly stupid, Jack…She just…her social skills make me look like a freaking goodwill ambassador. And she's too loud. And dresses inappropriately! She's a grown woman working at a government intelligence agency. Leave the Juicy Couture at home."

Stepping into the office, Jack looked around for oddly harsh colors, located them, then bent his head to whisper, "Looks like today it's Ed Hardy."

Chloe smirked. "Didn't know you followed fashion trends, Jack."

He shrugged. "I don't, but the name is plastered all over the place."

That observation made her smirk as she veered from his side over towards her station, while Jack went to see what work was waiting for him on his desk.

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"So, as a field agent, am I supposed to dress like a roughneck?"

As Chloe looked up from her lunch, Renee Walker plopped down into the empty chair across from her and deposited her own meal on the table. The redhead was dressed in what Chloe though of as her FBI uniform, black trousers and jacket with a white, button down shirt and low heeled boots. No one was entirely sure where she was going to fit in at the CTU, whether she would be in the field or in a supervisory, in house position.

In all honesty, her choice of attire would fit in better with the non-field staff. Sophie leaned toward simple, pretty dresses and pare fitted sweaters. Nick was a khakis, button down and sweater vest guy. Dana's style leaned toward garish, as today's shocking pink with a snarling tiger head t-shirt attested. Most of Chloe's own wardrobe was worn for comfort, not style.

Looking over at the small huddle of field agents at the next table, Chloe had to admit they didn't quite look like typical government employees. Jack had hand picked his team from a variety of federal agencies, military units and police departments, a group of twenty of the countries best. They were all physically fit, psychologically stable and intelligent.

Reed, one of Jack's first recruits, a member of the 1st Marine Special Operations Battalion, was, like Jack, a jeans, long sleeved top and boots person. Like Reed, Ben Collins former Special Teams and followed a similar dress code, though he seemed fond of throwing flannel into the mix. Thomas Fairmont former LAPD SWAT, and Daniel Nagara, formerly an NSA special agent, mixed the look up by pairing button-down oxfords with their jeans. A few other agents wore khaki pants, usually cargos, and the majority of them looked ready to get down and dirty at a moments notice.

To answer Renee's question, Chloe said, "I think it's just a matter of preference. In LA, the dress code was a bit stricter, but Jack just seems to want functionality. The new director probably won't challenge it too much."

Renee poked at her salad and sighed, "I just feel over dressed sometimes. That was nice about the bureau. Very little individual style was allowed."

Taking a bite of her burger, Chloe said, "I think Jack appreciates non conformity. Shows the ability to think outside the box."

The corners of Renee's mouth tilted up as two other field agents entered the break room, both wearing some form of New York Yankee shirts. "Hope that stand on non conformity doesn't extend to baseball teams," she joked and grinned when the shorter of the two men winked at her.

"They're in the ACLS series," Chloe said off handedly, "And this is New York."

Renee looked at her in surprise. "You follow baseball?"

She shook her head. "Jack. He played in college and idolized Mantle, so the Yankee's are his team. There were some games on when he was sick. He actually emerged from his room to watch them."

"Such a guy thing," Renee snorted. "My brothers would do that for a football game."

They continued their meal in companionable silence for a moment, until Dana flounced up to the table. "There's a guy with a delivery," she snipped at Chloe. "He won't let me sign for it."

Chloe glared. "Have Nick sign."

"Isn't it your job to do that sort of thing?"

"When I'm on the floor, yes. Otherwise, it fall to whomever I delegated that responsibility to. And that would be Nick."

With a huff, Dana spun on the heel of her neon pink, skull covered high top and stalked back out of the room.

"About her…." Renee began, but Chloe cut her off.

"Political appointment."

"That explains so much." Renee paused, then said, "Just for future reference, I think Jo hates her almost as much as you do. She screwed up the info during a training drill they ran a few days ago and sent Jo's team into a night club instead of the empty building set up for the occasion."

"Not good," Chloe replied, wondering if jack had gotten to that particular report yet.

Renee nodded in agreement. "But the show when the field team got back was kind of fun."

Chloe paused, French fry hovering before her lips. "Please tell me you have the recording."

"On my computer."

Chloe gathered up the remains of her meal. "I'm not petty," she said, snagging Renee by the arm, "But I need to see that. Need to se it right now."

Renee just laughed and allowed herself to be dragged of toward her desk and the sought after video.


End file.
